Whispers at Midnight
by Metal-Potato-Alex
Summary: Miranda wants to talk about their relationship. Jack just wants to sleep. Fluffy Jack/Miranda femslash.


**Mass Effect and all related characters and places belong to BioWare - I just make them dance for my own amusement.  
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**Just a little something I whipped up while unable to sleep. It can take place whenever you want it to - they could be secret lovers on the Normandy, or long since married - tis entirely your choice.  
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**~xxx~**

It must have been midnight, or thereabouts, when she spoke. The room was dim, lit only by the idle terminal on the nearby desk. The pale glow ghosted over their forms, mostly hidden or distorted by the sheets. Their bodies were twisted together, entwined like an intricate puzzle – half-finished and left in a state of contorted satisfaction. They had made a strange habit of neglecting nightwear; why wear it when all they do is tear if off each other, one of them had argued. Memories of intimate touches and passionate sounds filled her mind, taking her back to that evening for a moment. It was those memories, in fact, that led her to ask the question.

"Why do we love each other?"

Such a simple sentence, yet such a complex riddle.

Jack shifted slightly, moving her bald head back to regard the other woman with tired eyes. Even in the faint light, Miranda could see the incredulous look upon the convict's face.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Not as rude as it could have been.

Miranda smiled, and just gazed at the smaller woman for a moment. Jack would hate her for thinking it, but there was something endearing about the way the tattooed woman scrunched her nose up when she was trying too hard to look angry about something. Instead, she averted her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, that same smile in place.

"Just thinking," she replied, her voice no louder than it needed to be. "We never really talked about it, despite everything we went through."

"And you think _now_ is the right time?" Jack growled, lifting her torso from the other woman's. "Jesus, Miri, go to sleep."

"Now's as good a time as any," the raven-haired woman replied, delighting in the fire she had so easily ignited within her partner. It was a talent.

"No, that candlelit dinner you made me sit through last week was the right time," Jack countered, flopping down again and resting her head against Miranda's shoulder. "Right now the last thing I want to be doing is listening to you talk about _feelings_." Since when had it become such a dirty word?

"But why?" She knew that her oh-so-innocent questioning was irritating the other woman, but the look on her face was just _precious_. "You don't seem to mind talking about feelings when we have sex."

"Screaming 'I love you' while that infuriating tongue of yours does it's thing doesn't count," the bald woman muttered. Miranda, however, just smiled even wider, and let out a content sigh.

"So you do love me."

"Go the fuck to sleep."

They remained like that for the next few minutes, in total silence save for the hum of the nearby computer. Just as she felt the other woman start to relax, Miranda spoke again.

"I love you too, you know," she said simply.

"Mmhmm."

"I know I shouldn't," she went on, still not averting her eyes from the ceiling. "I mean, there's probably something wrong with me, but you're the only person who I can honestly be myself around."

"And right now I would just _love_ for you to be someone who stops talking and lets me get some shut-eye," Jack growled, her speech somewhat muffled by the taller woman's skin.

"You don't judge; that's the thing." At this rate, she was expecting a full-on biotic attack any minute, but something was willing her to air her thoughts. "You can be rude, harsh, and you really do swear too much, but…" She paused, seeming unsure for the first time that night. As she thought over how best to continue, Jack remained silent and motionless. "…but when I'm with you, I feel like I don't have to be something I'm not. You see through all the facades and masks people wear – and always tear them down when they do - so why bother pretending in the first place? I just…feel _right _around you. And I don't pretend to understand where this attraction came from, given how we were at first, but…now I don't think there's anything I would fight harder for, than to be with you."

Miranda let out a shaky breath. Rather than observing the ceiling to irritate her bed partner, she now found that she was almost nervous of looking elsewhere. She expected a mocking retort, or perhaps just a laugh. Instead she was met with more silence. Jack was still, and when Miranda finally looked down at the woman laying atop her, it was to find that her eyes were closed. She managed a small smile, and shook her head knowingly; she shouldn't have expected anything different. Letting out another quiet sigh, she pulled the covers a little further over them, and was just about to return her arms to Jack's waist, when the smaller woman's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Worth something," Jack whispered. Miranda frowned, and cocked her head to the side, her hands still hovering beneath the covers, a hair's breadth from tattooed skin.

"What?" she asked, her own voice coming out quieter than expected.

"You make me feel like I'm worth something," the convict elaborated, a little louder now. "You might not have liked me when we met, but you treated me like a normal person." Miranda felt a wave of guilt wash over her; she would hardly have looked upon her sarcastic comments and aggressive demeanour as 'normal' treatment, but she kept quiet, hanging on Jack's every word. "I dunno whether it was Shepard, or Cerberus rules, or what, but you kept talking to me; kept _pestering_ me. And all the while, I started thinking that somehow, just maybe, we had each other worked out." She let out a shaky breath, and finally looked up. For a moment, Miranda had expected to find tears in the other woman's eyes. They were dry, but instead held a decidedly haunted look. "And I don't wanna lose what we have, Miri. I don't care if it doesn't make sense, or people think it's weird; I wanna be with you. Because with you, I feel like I matter to someone; like I actually _mean_ something, and that's not a feeling I ever want to let go…"

Miranda didn't say a word. Instead, she allowed her hands to finally make contact with her lover's skin. The warmth she still felt when touching that tattooed body was like fire; burning, yet affirming all the same. Never breaking their connection, she ran one hand upwards; over sinewy muscles and age-old scars; over the body she had long since memorised, yet yearned to explore once again. She cupped the back of her head, feeling the slight prickle of her shaved head.

"I will never let you go," she murmured, gazing into Jack's dark eyes with nothing but adoration.

"And I'll be worth fighting for."

Their vows were sealed with a kiss, and mere moments later, both were drifting into a blissful sleep. Together.


End file.
